What Would I Do
by xXJewelynXx
Summary: A ridmona fic  Riddler/Ramona  my OC    Edward comes back to the Doctor's house all beaten up by a certain she-plant. And Ramona being a caring person, of course is going to help.   Just a hurt/comfort fic I wrote on a spur of the moment. Enjoy


Desperate hands clawed at the back of my black dress shirt. It was already almost ruined though, so her groping hands were no bother to me. My own hands had found their way into her black velvet locks. Slowly I felt a warmth against my collar bone. Tears? Why was she crying? One of my hands drifted to the small of her back, pressing her closer to me.

"I was so worried." she chocked out, crashing the building silence. The digits I had managed to entangle in her hair slid from the strands to lift her chin gently. Her eyes, those eyes which always intrigued me so, glistened not with just her worry. There was also the small flame of hatred for the red headed plant hybrid that had done this to me.

What on Earth could I have possibly done to deserve this loving and beautiful creature?

There was a long silence, her petite hands loosened on my shirt. One of her small hands released my shirt completely. Raising it to my face, one of her fingers ghosted over a cut on my face, one of the many scattered about my body. Almost like a reflex my own hand came up to hold hers.

"We should get you cleaned up." Ramona said. She really needed to stop. I _know _that I do not deserve all of this; I don't even deserve her to begin with. The thought of standing up reminded me how much by body ached and throbbed. She could tell, sliding her arm under my own, a gentle hand holding my other side. Slowly we stood and she allowed me the time to stabilize. I sometimes wondered if her patience ever expired.

The jangling of skittle colored belts told on her boots told me she had taken a step. My emerald eyes traveled down to see the direction in which she had moved. Towards the bathroom, I should have expected as much, but I was far too tired to sit down and be mended. I had a hand resting on Ramona's shoulder, and gave a small squeeze, just so she would stop and look at me.

Her flouncy pigtails swayed ever so slightly as she turned her pretty little face towards me. Now that I had her attention, I took a step towards the staircase. She gave me one of her famous disapproving mother looks. It was nice to see something so familiar. I returned her look with one of my own, my famous 'pity me' face mixed with a bit of an exhausted look. The never failing look brought a sigh from her beautiful lips as she changed course for the staircase.

It had been an adventure climbing up all of those stairs, (though in truth, there were only about twelve steps to walk up) but we made it. After helping me carefully lie down upon her bed, Ramona took the liberty of removing my black shirt. Well, it wasn't so much a shirt anymore, it was more along the lines of, in her words, a 'tattered rag'. God, she felt like my mother more than my girlfriend sometimes.

She claimed it was 'chilly' in her room, so like the overbearing mother she was, she grabbed one of her many sweatshirts. This was one of her larger ones though, and after she helped me put it on, I noticed it obnoxiously big for her little frame. Why would she have this in her wardrobe? The answer became agonizingly obvious . On the front of the sweatshirt (which, I must admit was very comfortable), there was a name sewn in with script writing, 'Dick Grayson.'

When I took my attention away from the enemy's sweatshirt I looked to my raven haired doctor. She had somehow managed to change into a pair of light grey sweatpants, an orchid purple tank top, and had thrown her hair up into one of her sloppy-yet-sexy ponytails. She looked amazing no matter what she wore.

I must have been smiling, because I had earned a warm smile from her lips. She walked over to the bed and pulled the lilac sheets and plum purple cover back from the bed. She put it over me first, then crawled in herself. "I really should clean those wounds, they might get infected," my scratches and gashes must still be visible. I just scoffed and wrapped my arms around her and kissed her forehead.

"I'll live, but a lack of sleep, well that's a different story." I joked. She smiled tiredly and snuggled closer to me. She then placed a small kiss on my lips.

"Sometimes I don't know what to do with you." she said groggily and closed her eyes. She was just about out. I then gently brushed my fingers against her cheek, pushing some stray hairs behind her ear. Then I whispered to her.

"Sometimes, I don't know what to do without you."


End file.
